Medicated
by Marystormshade
Summary: With Spirit and Stein no longer partners, Stein: to relieve boredom takes on a new experiment. Injecting her daily with a detatchment causing drug, he removes any and all emotions, leaving only her will to serve. SteinxOC. Rated M because of gentle Lemon, also because Stein is Stein. Includes gore and sadism...I guess...Summary sucks. R&R! Don't like don't read.
1. Chapter 1

….

She sat still, without motion, as the chill of the white table bit into her skin. It's displeasing, but nothing worth a second thought. He is holding her hand, like a child's hand, as if it were porcelain and could shatter at any instant. The scalpel is removed and she watches as the palm of her hand spurts blood, the veins pulsing nervously. The physical reaction is expected. The emotional reaction is limited.

She remembers meeting him, her attraction to him was immediate, and he later described it as 'the need to mate'. She had only nodded then, as it was she had had her dosing regulated by then. She never disagreed with him. He always told her that when he first met her, all he wanted to do was rip apart her in the most intricate way he could, take his time, experiment. At first she was hesitant, a woman filled to the brim with curiosity, she was curious as to what he would do. She also enjoyed the sadistic glint in his eye when he had first extended his invitation. Without much persuasion she followed him to his house, falling into his precise trap.

He is removing the skin from the palm, peeling slowly, his grin splitting his face in two. She finds she likes his smile, makes her want to follow him along his twisted path more diligently. The cog from his head is being twisted, once, twice, click. The blood is flowing quicker now, soaking his hands, he promptly ignores it.

"Hypothenar and Thenar peeled back…displaying increasing tremors throughout the Opponens Pollicis." He pulls out a utensil and slowly hooks a tendon, meeting her eyes, he pulls. She lacks the fear to scream, but the pain is evident as her free hand digs into itself. The tendon has come undone, hanging limply to the side; he sighs and hooks two, as if he were plucking guitar strings. He pulls swiftly, the tendons making a popping sound as they come undone. There is a moment where all is quiet, before she suddenly twists her head back and forth, biting her tongue, she won't scream, the last time she did he scolded her, stating it ruined his concentration. She didn't want to distract him.

"Physical reaction delayed, but prominent. Emotional reaction, neutral." He says as he grabs a syringe and a bottle, filled with an odorless, colorless, heavy liquid. He looks at her, with what she assumes is a mixture of seductive charm and slight pride.

"Remaining lucid throughout this is would be helpful, that shouldn't be a problem for you though." He says spinning in his chair for a moment. She's breathing heavily, a weight seemingly pressing on her chest. She takes a moment to respond, but releases a shaky breath.  
"Anything for you Frank." She said slowly, she only calls him Frank when she wants him to go further, push her harder, push her past every ethical, and physical limit. He's never denied her that.

He's grinning again, this time in a sadistically childish excitement. "Now this," He points to the bottle of liquid. "Is Nitroglycerin, an extremely concentrated dose. Just a few drops on exposed skin causes extreme headaches. I wish to measure the amount of pain I can cause through direct contact of the blood stream, while you're already recovering from the shock and pain of your hand." He pushes the chair closer to her; wheel's making a squeaking noise as he slides across the floor. He places a hand on her head and begins to toy with her mess of brown hair. The color of dirt, but he's never minded. He pokes her temple roughly, causing her to cringe.

"I intend this drug to incapacitate you, but before that, tell me everything you experience. When you wake up you will immediately report to me the sensations felt throughout your unconsciousness." He turns from her and places the syringe in the liquid, extracting said drug. She looks at the back of his head, the white hair which she constantly wanted to touch, imagining it to be as soft as the feathers that were inside of her pillows. She looks down at her hand, the bleeding having slowed, pain having forced itself into a dull drumming, never leaving.

"Anything for you Frank." She whispers. If her emotions were still intact she would have felt ecstasy at how his smile came back into view, teeth displayed for extra fierceness. He grabs her wrist, pulling the bleeding hand to his cheek, rubbing it against his face for a moment before he poised the syringe just above one of the many exposed veins, pulsating violently in her hand. He pauses as if contemplating. The needle is there then, not an unfamiliar sensation. He injects the drug into her and for a moment nothing happens, but only a moment.

He pulls the needle from her palm as the tremors start. She's gripping her head, eyes wide in forced concentration as she attempts to make sense of the pain, the confusion, the utter madness. Her pupils search the floor, he's watching her closely. She screams suddenly as a wave of unmasked pain washes across her vision, her stomach forcing itself to her throat, acid on her tongue. He's saying something, so she forces herself to listen.

"What do you feel?" He asks casually, she knows this tone, he's enjoying this, if she could express emotion she would be glad. She is pleased when he is enjoying something. The question is simple, but leads off in so many directions, so she speaks honestly.

"White, it's white…I feel everything and nothing, it's like being thrown against a cliff by a wave you can't fight off. Like having water forced into your lungs." She's cries, attempting to make sense of the maddening sensations. She isn't prepared when he takes her injured hand, grabs the utensil, and begins to pull at more tendons.

"And now?" He asks curious.

Physical reaction was to be expected, as always, emotional reaction limited.

She screams, louder than before, the mix of different pain causing her to spiral down. He's watching her, and he expects a report, but her throat won't release anything except for screams and whimpers. But she's fine with it, he's happy. She can't explain what caused it but suddenly her eyelids are closed, and her head is falling forward, causing her entire body to fall to the side.

She is no longer screaming.

(…line break…)

Stein looks at her, not at all surprised when she was knocked into the unconscious. He turns from her and begins scribbling on a pad of paper diligently, going into detail when discussing the very manner in which he removed the tendon's from her palm. Said tendons are now lying beneath a microscope, where Stein had placed them only moments ago. In his report he doesn't mention how he craves her screams; how he loves the way she says his name, practically demanding that he torture her until she falls into madness with him. No, he never mentions that, to personal.

He looks at her, gingerly pulling her injured hand him; the bleeding subsided to a minor trickle. He places his hand on his cheek, where her blood is drying and cracking. He grabs a needle and thread, places them to the side as he first assaults the wound with rubbing alcohol. Physically she jerks in her sleep, but she says nothing. He grins as he begins to suture, the same type of suture as the stitched scars which line his body.

The room is hot with blood and breath, so he pulls off his lab coat, revealing his toned abdomen, hidden behind a black shirt. He is done with the stitches, now all he has to do is waiting. He sits still for a moment, before he gets up and places his body next to hers, not close enough to touch, but not out of arms reach. He breathes in her scent, enjoying the sensation. He curls his arms about her waist, pulling the woman to him, not once thinking of the consequences.

The embrace isn't kind though, more possessive. His grin splits his face in two. He pulls off his glasses and places them off to the side. Lips next to her ear he smiles;  
"I am going to tear you apart, my Junko."

If she were conscious, her reply would've merely been: Anything for you Frank.

(…line break…)

She never weeps for herself; she doesn't know how one might. She looks upon her being as Stein does; accounting herself as an experimental subject to be observed and noted; and even within her, when some small part of her rebelled with the tiny attempts at moments of sorrow or fear, there were two discourses: one which cried, and one which recorded that cry without compassion; one intelligence which wished warmly for an embrace' and the other which did not grant it and did not speak, but observed, watchful, hands folded, inactive, and pen at the ready.

If one massy eye regarded her coldly from behind her back, it was her own.

The pain in her head woke her up. A startling soreness assaulted her every muscle, causing her to release gentle grunts as she sits up, eyes lidded, glancing around the room. She is alone, her only company a pad of paper on which she is to write her experiences, and next to it a bottle, filled with Phencyclidine, or as Stein calls it 'angel dust'. With a practiced weariness she plucks the bottle from its resting place. She measures out the desired amount, and with little care shovels the drug onto her tongue. She knows the detachment will take time to come back into effect, so she goes to the pad of paper, and starts writing.

She remembers asking him about color, and of what it consisted; and he told her that color-brown, red, green- resides in the eye of the beholder; that it does not in here in the object itself, any more than pain dwells in the needle. She didn't question his answer. She never did.

She's finished writing, by now the dust has begun its effect, she's used to it. She wanders out of the operating room, heading instead to the small almost cupboard like room where the majority of the books are kept. She trails her fingers across the titles and picks one at random, opening it to the last chapter. She never starts at the beginning. Everything's more interesting when put backwards.

(…line break…)

He spins and she watches, entranced by the whirlpool like motion. He stops abruptly and cocks his head at her; he grabs the bolt protruding from his skull and twists until a familiar click is heard.

"Junko?" Stein asks his gaze heavy on her. She's tracing her eyes over his scar, but looks up when he says her name.  
"Dr.?" She asks voice only mildly curious. She's lost the need to call him Frank. Stein seems to contemplate for a moment before he continues, sliding forward in the chair until he's up next to her. "Up for another experiment?" He asks after a moment. She nods and lets out a small grunt.  
"Anything for you Dr." She replies, voice neutral. He's standing then, pushing her against the table, fitting himself snuggly between her legs. She merely blinks.

"I'd like to stress your body, then when it's at the point of breaking, I'm going to send it teetering over the edge…I'd like to drag you down into madness, if only for a moment." He continues casually as he pulls the bandage wrap on her palm off, causing her to wince. She looks up at him, interest appearing on her face.

"And how are you going to stress my body?" She asked after a moment. Stein played with the buttons of her shirt. "I plan on causing you a great deal of sexual excitement, then a great deal of physical pain. With your body in its current condition, and the drugs running through your veins, I'd like to see how it copes with this great an amount of concentrated stimuli." He's pulling at the buttons now, revealing white pink scars, swirling across her chest. All his doing.

She's silent, before finally she replies simply. "Anything for you Frank."

Sooner than she was prepared for, his lips have found hers, pressing himself flush against her. She tenses, before she uncertainly plucks his glasses off. For a moment his eyes zero in. Just a moment before, a rare smile had masked Stein's simmering intent; and the fire of insanity flared in his eyes as he struggled to overcome the emotions boiling within. The operating room went quiet, deathly quiet.

She's on her back and he's on her, they're like that for hours, eyes staring intently at one another. Moans of pleasure emit from her in strings, followed quickly by screams and groans. He moans silently into his shoulder throughout it all, he has to focus, remember her reactions to everything. He can't deny though, how he enjoys the way she squirms beneath his body, the way she wraps herself around him, even with the scalpel threatening her very existence.

For much longer than either of them originally expected they are pressed against one another's skin, and after not much longer she's gone quiet, her body having been physically spent, she's fallen into sleeps embrace. Using this to his advantage he is on her again, poising the scalpel below her breasts, pulling it lower.

She doesn't move at all throughout his procedure and for that he is grateful, he doesn't want to mess up.

Once he's concluded his experiment, blood soaking his coat, a new scar awaiting her when she wakes, he steps back and admires her once more. Allowing his eyes to travel over her current lack of dress, he cannot help but suppress a bit of a shudder as he recalls every cry she made, every shiver that went through her when he touched her.

Suddenly he's grinning, splitting his face in two. He hopes that he can repeat this experiment at some point.


	2. Chapter 2

Once again she's awoken by a throbbing all throughout her body; it's so painful that she stares up at the ceiling, unable to sit up. She knows without even looking that her stomach was Stein's operating area. Stretching her fingers over the stitched wound she waggles her fingers across the damaged tissue. Fire clouds her vision as the pain grows to a white hot hammer being forced down her throat, she gags and the pain of her clenching abdomen hits her, finally she comes to the conclusion that lying still would be the best option.

Twisting her head to the side she sees an envelope, and on top of the envelope are large tablets, what she guesses is Vicodin. Without much thought she reaches out with her left arm, and lets out a painful gasp as the movement pulls against her new stitches. Grabbing the tablets, she pulls back quickly, sharply, stupidly attempting to avoid the pain. It didn't work. Sighing she places the tablets on the tip of her tongue for a moment, before swallowing dryly, no water in sight.

This time with much more decorum and patience she reaches over and pulls the envelope so that she can open it easily with each arm. Inside Stein's left her a note, his scratchy handwriting playing across the paper.

_Extended experiment, starting now. The hypothesis is simple: If I remove your daily dose of 'angel dust' without any gentle decent or warning, then your body will be sent into a withdrawal like state as your detached mind is suddenly sent into a state of chaotic emotions which it hasn't felt in a total of two years. Because the 'angel dust' has been keeping these emotions at bay I am curious as to how you will cope…don't worry though, this isn't permanent, when I feel I've collected an appropriate amount of data I will put you back on the drug. While you were sleeping I noted that your body temperature was above ninety nine degrees, I suggest you look into that. Find me in my room when you are prepared to discuss._

_Franken Stein._

She stared at the paper for a moment, soaking like a sponge all the information in the paper. He wasn't putting her on a placebo without her knowledge, he wasn't just simply taking the drug away, and no he was directly confronting her, stating his intentions without any deception. That may have been what caused the twinge of weariness, he wasn't usually so blatant, and it caused her to believe he had something else entirely in plan. For the first time since she had met him, she questioned his motives.

(…line break…)

He sat in a chair, one that sadly enough, didn't spin. He watched her while she remained impassive. She hadn't bothered to get properly dressed, having only pulled his earlier discarded black shirt on, one of his older more dirtied lab coats covering everything past her knees. He made a note that she probably wasn't wearing undergarments, they having been thrown off to who knows where in the whirl of motion last night.

He touched the tip of his tongue to the roof of his mouth before he broke the sweetly comfortable silence. "After my experiment last night, I find that I've grown emotionally attached, to you that is." He says it matter of factly, and she responds matter of factly as well.  
"It's to be expected I suppose, we have spent a great deal of time each other." Yes, a great deal of time together, twenty five months, two weeks and three days. She had an extremely accurate mental calendar. He nodded, "Yes that was the conclusion I came to as well. When I realized that an idea came to me." He was grinning again suddenly. "I thought about how interesting it would be to see your mind try and cope with the sudden loss of the drug you've been on for the past two years, one and a half months a two days. Not only that, but dealing with the sudden existence of emotion. I want to know what you will experience in this area of mental expertise." He stood then, pointed to his dresser and stated very simply, "For your first day off the drug I'd like to take you out to a public area, see how you react to the sudden sociality of everything. You'll have to get dressed of course."

(…line break…)

The line was aggravatingly long, and she found herself growing tired of all the looks they got, what with their equally strange dress and attitudes. Stein in his lab coat, glasses, knobs and various scars, needless to say he glared at everyone who looked at him strangely. She was in a scratchy pair of shoes which she'd had for ages, washed out jeans with all kinds of stains which she had never been able to get out including blood and chocolate, her shirt was a comfortable fit which dragged attention away from the circles under her eyes and the dirt colored mop which hung from her head.

Already she was feeling…uncomfortable, her fingers kept interlacing with each other, pulling-popping and scratching. At one point Stein had to grasp her shoulders to keep her from falling after a particularly violent convulsing. He muttered an almost inaudible sentence that she only heard a snippet of; "…paroxysms…caused by secession." He looked at her for a moment before he sighed, allowing her to sit at a bench away from the crowd at the small stand which sold who knows what. She didn't look up as Stein turned and walked off, calling behind him for her to stay still. She remained unmoving for approximately five minutes before a small body no older than five slammed into her lower leg. Her eyes zoned in on the child, a female who quivered under her intense stare. Sudden childish courage caused the girl to stick her stubby hand out stating her name, a rather silly name as well; the child called herself Mary.

"What's your name?" The girl enquired.  
"Junko." She stated simply gaining a strange look from the girl named Mary.  
"That's a weird name."  
"It means 'obedient child'." Junko replied after a moment, slightly annoyed. She momentarily paused and concluded that annoyance was a small sliver of anger; the drug was losing its effect quickly.

"Does that mean you follow rules?" Mary asked seemingly mortified. Suddenly she got a mischievous glint in her eyes, "Want to go swimming? My mom says I can't but I told her that she's a big fat head and ran over here." Mary said almost proudly. Junko looked at her curiously before stating; "That was irrational."  
"What does that mean?" Mary asked swimming forgotten momentarily. Junko sighed, patience wearing thin. "It means that was stupid. You ask a lot of questions don't you?" Mary ignored Junko's question and instead gripped her injured hand tightly in her own, though her grip was slight and all together weak, it still caused Junko to cry out in pain. Mary sunk into herself as Junko turned on her, eyes lit with a fire she hadn't felt in a long time. When she saw the fear in Mary's eyes she calmed and released a breath between her lips.

"Fine, swimming it is."

(…line break…)

"Irrational, juvenile, and risky. What gave you the incentive to wander off and go swimming with a child who you had only just met?" Stein demanded as he threw her a towel which she only just managed to catch. The trip back to the house had been a silent one; Stein's fuse had been lit. "Have you any idea how long I spent looking for you? I was worried." Stein said anger evident in his voice as he grabbed a pen and pad of paper.

"You didn't want your experiment to disappear so soon into research." She said quietly. The subtle outburst has both Junko and Stein surprised, as neither expected the reply to come. Stein abandoned the pen and paper took another towel and placed it on her head slowly twisting her hair around. "That is true, but I also find that I would've been extremely distraught had you left." He dropped his hand from her head and turned back to the paper, setting himself down on a couch.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised though, throughout the day you had been extremely jumpy, also you appeared to have a slight gaining sense of the perceived emotions all around you." He hummed gently as the pencil scratched across the pad. He looked up and noted how tired she looked, and with a bit of a hesitant movement, he motioned for her to take a seat on the couch next to him. She took a moment to think before she complied, falling into the softness of the cushions.

"Please list all the emotions you felt today." Stein said after a moment.  
"Annoyance, content, concern, a very small amount of pride and…" She faltered slightly, voice cracking. Stein's pencil paused with her.  
"And?" He asked, egging her to continue.  
"Rage." She finished finally. She sounded tired.  
"Now could you-" He was cut off when a weight found its way onto his arm, looking down he sees the mess of dirt colored hair, leaning against him. He looks at her eyes, which are closed, a sure sign that she's asleep.

She's never touched him without his permission before, always keeping a professional distance or remaining stark still while he touched her to his own pleasure…but this was a nice change of pace. The pencil was back in his hand as he started scribbling down his observations.


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors note: I suppose I should give a warning…this chapter will grace some sensitive subject matter (not that I care) so I don't want people to rush away in horror, because it actually happens…anyway…: P, R&R!**

**Xxxxxx**

**1 week after initial removal of 'angel dust'.**

She knew that considering how late (or early) it was, 1:15am precisely, she was being extremely loud, extremely obnoxious and utterly ridiculous as she stomped childishly across the kitchen floor, her padded feet making a scuffling sound as she slammed cabinets closed in anger. She knew after her first initial scavenge through the kitchen not but ten minutes earlier she wouldn't find it, but still she had continued her hunt, so much as searching in the cleaning chemicals supply beneath the sink.

She also knew that for the first time in two years, one and a half months and nine days she felt like throwing something, like screaming into a pillow, and more than anything she just felt purely and wholly pissed off.

"Damn." Came a mutter from the darkened doorway, causing her to look up, Stein stood in the threshold, glasses thrown haphazardly on, hair sticking out in various positions, and unlit cigarette rolling across his lips. He was attempting to light said cigarette, but was failing horribly. Somehow his presence made her even more frustrated, and in this frustration she felt extremely confused as to how this entire situation even happened.

"Where is it?" She demanded gruffly, eyes glaring at him accusingly. He merely looked up as if only realizing she was in the room with him.  
"Where's what?" He asked stupidly as he finally succeeded in lighting the cigarette, pulling it from his lips to release a puff of smoke.  
"The jar of peanut butter. I left it here before I went to sleep," She pointed to the vacant countertop, "it's not here anymore, and so I ask; where is it?" She asked her tongue rolling across her upper lip. Ever since the drug had been removed her old habits had started to slowly reappear. Stein didn't look at her as he walked past her, his pants licking across her skin. It was then that she swallowed as she noted that he was currently shirtless. She swallowed, forcing herself to focus on the back of his head.

He bent down to the chemical supplies and put them back in their proper place. "It had past its expiration date." He said simply. Her eyes widened in horrified anger at his implication.  
"Where's the peanut butter?" She asked again, soaking up his answer as if he had said she had three weeks to live. He stood and scratched the side of his head, smirking. "I imagine somewhere at the bottom of a communal waste container."

She gawked at him. After a moment he cocked his head to the side, "Oh? You seem…surprised." Lacking grace she put her arms on either side of her head and breathed in an attempt at creating calm. In reply Stein put his own arms up in a nonchalant, sarcastic defense. She then seeing this promptly released a string of choice words that were said in such a quick tongued fashion that even Stein could barely understand it.

"You are being irrational." He said after a moment. He then grabbed her upper arm as she attempted to pull away from him; he then pulled her to her quarters where he promptly pushed her in so she skidded unceremoniously to a stop at the foot of her bed. She released a childish grunt before she crawled to the tangled mess of sheets and mattress which she called a bed; she wrapped the sheets about her tightly and fell asleep glaring at the white ceiling.

(…line break…)

**6:30 am; 5hrs 15mins after kitchen incident.**

She wakes with clouded eyes, feet touching the cooling floor as she rubs the bridge of her nose. She glances down at the sheets and stops, her mind taking a moment to process what she's seeing. The red stains are forcing their way into her vision and in an attempt to disregard the possibilities forcing themselves into her mind she glances below the band of her unclothes and releases a shaky breath.

For the first time in two years, one and a half months and nine days she has to deal with the horrendous task of being a woman.

(…line break…)

**6:45 am; breakfast.**

He looks up; she's standing awkwardly in the doorway, her soul wave length displaying a slight tremor. He pulls the cigarette out of his mouth and stops the cleaning that he was doing, as he attempted to fix the mess she had made not but seven hours ago.

"Well?" He asks, impatient. She seems embarrassed, hesitant even as she opens her mouth.  
"…it started again."  
"I need more specific details." He stated as he reached for a pen and paper. She released a breath before she began; "You remember when I started taking the 'angel dust'?" He looked up at her as if she were stupid. "Yes, all hormone levels dropped significantly, and brain activity in emotional processing was practically nonexistent." He seemed to think for a moment, before his mouth made a small 'o'. He coughed face flushing before he turned and scribbled something on a piece of paper, "I suppose it was to be expected, considering that the drug is no longer in effect, meaning that your hormones can get back to whatever it was they were doing before the drug was put into your system." Without another word on the subject he turned and grabbed a pan from the cupboard, placing the slab of metal onto the burner.

"Scrambled or sunny side up?"

(…line break…)

_Patient shows an almost childlike need to overly keep control of the ball of chaos she's become. She display's a growing lack of concern toward what slips through her lips, she blatantly shows a strangled respect toward me, but it's grudging, and very hardly reveals itself. Patient's hormone's acting up, need to watch that. Patient shows craving of peanut butter, almost obsessively, possible withdrawal side effect, regardless, I will have to buy more. _

_Patient is…intriguing to watch in public, displaying a great deal of compassion toward small children she is always approached by them, apparently they find her intriguing as well. In public if she doesn't get her way she practically deteriorates whoever is in her way with a verbal barrage of linguistic cannon fodder. I am impressed with her ability to brush some things off and then equally turn into a mass of emotions over some other things; it's extremely chaotic, yet cutely enduring. _

_I find myself actually becoming emotionally attached, not merely stating the words to make her do things more willingly, no, the lie I spun is un-spinning itself only to show me that it's been true. I hate being proven wrong. _

_My chair wheel's need to be tightened, I was traversing through the hallway when the whole thing toppled over, me along with it. _

_-Franken Stein, 2__nd__ observations of project 'Medicated'._


End file.
